Across the Lines

Well, this is new: Andy and Jake are walking down the sidewalk, chatting. Jake is telling Andy all about a new patient he has, who came in requesting body hair implants. Mercifully, we’ll never have to see the guy. Andy questions if this even qualifies as plastic surgery, which Jake asserts it does not. “Nip/Tuck is making a complete mockery of my profession.” Hee! Andy: “And yet, you continue to watch.” Aw, it was only a matter of time before these two worked things out and started having lively, friendly, fun-to-watch-and-recap conversations. Jake laughs, and asks what else he’s supposed to do with his time, since he’s cut back on his office hours. Andy mentions that he and Harold get together a couple of times a month to discuss cases, and invites Jake to join their “round table,” citing his [apparently Harold-urged] helpfulness with Ruth from the last episode. Jake asks if he really means it, prompting Andy to confess that it’s “less of a round table and more of a Scrabble-and-pastries kind of a thing, with a little medicine thrown in.” Jake declares his love for both Scrabble and pastries. Andy is glad of it, as he needs another player to challenge Harold when he uses made-up words. (LYING again, Harold? Tut.) Jake is very much in, and Andy cheerfully tells him that he has to supply the pastry. It’s all good, when suddenly a car swerves down the road and rams into a telephone pole. Andy and Jake rush to the scene of the accident; Jake gets into the passenger’s side of the car, while Andy stands outside the driver’s side window. Jake asks Andy if he smells “that” – presumably alcohol – which Andy does. Jake asks the driver for his name, which is ‘Ed Carnahan.’ Ed has a nasty-looking head wound, which Jake tells him they’ll treat. Andy observes that Ed’s pulse is “weak and thready,” and begins to repeat Ed’s name as he drifts out of consciousness. Jake orders a bystander to call 911, which Random Bystander hurries off to do. Jake tells Ed to “hang in there” while we head to the credits.

Reid storms into the apartment, reading a piece of paper and fuming that “this is such crap!” Ephram, reclining on the couch with a book, asks if his gym membership was cancelled again. Heh. Then: “Sorry, I just–I can’t help it. The sarcasm just slips out of me.” Marry me, Ephram. Reid is not feeling the love, however, as he informs Ephram that he can’t deal with it right now. Reid then gets scary, as he hurls the paper across the room and yells that he feels like “BREAKING something!” Whoa. Ephram sits up and offers his own “whoa,” along with the remark that he’s “never seen the Angry!Reid action figure before” and didn’t even know they made one. Fortunately for Ephram's sake, Reid basically ignores him and explains that according to that piece of paper, he’s been put on academic probation and is close to losing his scholarship. Ephram agrees that the situation “sucks,” and wonders if there’s any chance it’s a mistake. Reid doesn’t think so, as his “GPA’s on life support” and he’s been behind in his classes from the beginning. He rants that the workload is such that it seems like everyone should be failing. Ephram suggests that he talk to someone. Reid points out that he’s already talking to Ephram, but Ephram clarifies that he means someone actually qualified to help Reid. “I mean, I find community college challenging, and I think we both agree that Bright’s advice is limited to cheeseburgers and porn.” Hee. Reid’s unamused, and pointedly asks if Ephram thinks he needs a shrink. Ephram says it might help, but Reid freaks that his “brother’s the one with all the head doctors. I am going to become a head doctor. Big difference.” Ephram backs down from this a little, and asks if he has a guidance counselor. Reid does, but doubts ‘Dr. Franco’ will be much help. Ephram cuts him off before he can complete this thought, though, and encouragingly says that Reid and Franco can get together and chat about med school and Reid can learn new study skills. Reid looks at the letter again, and slowly decides that it might be a good idea, since Dr. Franco’s probably dealt with other students in the same boat. “I mean, I can’t be the only one in my class having a tough time.” Here’s the point when I actually start to find Reid rather compelling, as he keeps trying to convince himself that his academic problems are normal and fairly common, while also growing increasingly desperate about the situation. So: it took fourteen episodes, but you’re finally relevant, Reid! Yay! He smiles, and thanks Ephram before leaving.

Back to the accident. The paramedics are loading Ed into the ambulance, while Jake and Andy are filling them in on his concussion and broken ribs. Jake adds that his blood pressure’s low, which could indicate internal bleeding, and tells them to check his spleen; Andy recommends a CAT scan. EMT guy is like “I’m not actually a moron, fellows!” The scene cuts to Jake and Andy entering Jake’s office. Andy comments on how much that was to deal with before morning coffee; Jake thinks it’s a better adrenaline-booster than coffee. Andy chalks this up to “youth,” then, his cellphone in hand, says that he’d better call the police about the accident. Jake proposes that they wait a bit before informing them, until after they hear Ed’s story. Andy thinks Ed’s story is already pretty clear: “Guy gets drunk, guy crashes car.” Jake admits that he wants to talk to Ed first, and hastily assures Andy that it has nothing to do with Jake’s own substance abuse problems, no sirree! Andy asks if he and Ed are friends, which Jake replies that they are not, nor had they ever met prior to the accident. Jake does, however, “feel for him.” He notes that Ed may not survive surgery, and asks if it’s necessary for them to bring his family even more pain by getting the police involved. Andy, however, thinks the police will discover it eventually anyway. Jake reiterates that they should hold off on calling for the time being. Andy relents and says they can wait until after the surgery. Jake responds with a somewhat-short “Fine. Great.”

Sam’s. Amy’s very busy doing her waitress thing, when Hannah bursts in, all peppy, and tells Amy to guess what’s finally there! Amy, who doesn’t have a whole lot of time for this, lamely guesses summer vacation. Hannah, however, is referring to In Her Shoes, and adds that she doesn’t know why movies take so long to arrive in Everwood. A cranky customer asks them if they know why it takes so long to get a table. Hannah seems chastened, and helps Amy clear off the nearest table. As they walk away, Hannah continues that she thought she and Amy could go see it, if Amy’s free and doesn’t currently hate Cameron Diaz, with whom Amy runs “hot and cold.” Amy’s seeming reluctance, though, has nothing to do with Ms. Diaz and everything to do with the fact that she already saw the movie. Amy apologizes, explaining that ‘Kate’ and the already-seen Beth invited her after class one day; since Amy wasn’t sure where she and Hannah stood, she went. Hannah is sad. Noting this, Amy says she’ll just see it again. Hannah tells her not to worry, but Amy calls herself a “jerk.” Hannah insists that she’s not, and concedes that Amy is right about their recent lack of communication. Amy remarks that it seems like they’ve been “fighting over all this weird stuff,” and assures Hannah that she and Amy can disagree. Hannah asks if they really can, and Amy declares that she can vote Republican as much as she wants. Hannah reminds Amy that she can’t vote yet. Amy: “See? Even better.” Aw, it was only a matter of time before these two worked things out and started having lively, friendly, fun-to-watch-and-recap conversations about politics. So much harmony in the relationships in this episode! Nothing can happen to destroy all this lightheartedness. Amy asks what Hannah’s plans are for the next day; they were to involve Bright, but Hannah has no problem canceling, since she already sees him every day as it is. Amy says that she and Hannah can just hang out together, then: “No politics, no rallies. Just food and girl talk.” Hannah claps her hands giddily and exclaims that she loves “girl and food talk!” Hee. Amy gives her a look, and Hannah corrects herself. They say goodbye just before Amy departs to go waitress some more. Hannah remains where she is, all blissful about the reunion.

Harold enters the Abbott Den of Iniquities. He sighs to himself about the “sweet symphony of silence,” but then breathes deeply and notices an unexpected and illegal scent. He also hears Rose and some guy laughing. He peeks into the living room and suspiciously asks “Rose?” Rose and the guy are sitting on the couch; the guy is holding up a joint. As Harold steps into the room rather trepidatiously, Rose effusively declares that he’s home! Harold asks, unnecessarily, if someone’s been smoking marijuana in their living room. The guy chuckles that they probably should have done it outside, though Rose starts to protest. Harold asks the guy who he is [thank you, Harold!]. He stands to shake Harold’s hand, and identifies himself as ‘Bill Schmicker.’ Rose adds that Bill is a member of her cancer support group. Harold wonders where the rest of the group is, or if, after a few weeks, it’s come to consist solely of Rose and Bill. Rose explains that the others left about half-an-hour earlier, and goes on about how great the meeting was and how comfortable all the members are with each other. Clearly. Bill agrees. Harold repeats my “clearly” [I swear I didn’t even catch him saying that until after I typed it myself. Which is...mildly weird, as it’s the second time this episode I’ve had a reaction identical to that of one of the characters], then says, a little perturbedly, that he was under the impression that the purpose of the support group was for cancer victims to discuss their feelings. “Apparently, it’s about getting high!” You can’t tell by reading it, but as delivered by Tom Amandes, that line rocks. Rose laughs, and Bill does too, as he announces that he should probably go. Harold hopes that Bill won’t be driving himself home, in his condition. Bill: “No, I can drive with cancer.” *insert stoned-sounding laughter from he and Rose, something like, “hehhhhh-hee-hee-hee-bwah-hah-hee-hee-hee-heh-snort”* Harold rolls his eyes. Bill explains that he lives nearby and walked to the Abbott home. Harold is silent, but gives him a delightful little nod and smirk, signifying his great pleasure that Bill can theoretically just drop by and get high whenever he darn well pleases. Bill and Rose stare at Harold for a moment, mildly confused, until Bill remembers what he was doing and gives Rose a big goodbye hug, which lasts about ten seconds and also involves Bill thanking her a lot and also kissing her on the cheek. Harold points out the baggie of joints on the coffee table. Bill’s all “Duuuuuude! Don’t wanna forget those heh-heh-heh-heh!” He also compliments Harold’s typically argyle sweater. He finally says good night, and Rose goofily waves goodbye. Harold offers a crisp “Good night.” After he leaves, Harold turns to Rose and asks if any other members might be “lurking behind the curtains, committing felonious acts?” Rose confidently asserts that Bill was the last, but suddenly recalls that “Mary Pringle went to the bathroom a while ago, and I don’t recall seeing her leave, so you may want to knock.” I don’t think Rose is actually joking. Harold wonders if that’s all she has to say. Rose is about to say more, but the munchies suddenly interrupt her train of thought: “Would you like some pie? I am starving.” Harold’s only response is to stare at his wasted wife.

Office of Dr. Franco, according to the nameplate on the wall beside his door. Dr. Franco is very confident he can cure all that ails Reid, since he’s already seen two other “panicky students.” He ascribes Reid’s “blanking” to anxiety and advises hypnotism. Reid, however, doubts anxiety is the issue, mentioning how overwhelming it is to learn all the material. Dr. Franco agrees that the workload is intense, and asks how many hours a day Reid studies. Reid looks a little stunned, but Dr. Franco recommends, just a wee bit patronizingly, that Reid double his study time. Reid, however, for all his problems, does know that there are 24 hours in a day, and that doubling his daily study time will take him into Day 2. Dr. Franco laughs, but Reid, very seriously, explains that he averages about 14 hours. Yowza. Dr. Franco looks at him a moment, then realizes that Reid is serious. Reid is understandably worried now, and groans that he “knew it was bad.” Dr. Franco takes a new path, and suggests that “sometimes we’re blocked because our destiny isn’t what we think it is. It’s the universe’s way of nudging us into another direction.” Does the university know that it hired a counselor who essentially advises people on the basis of astrology? Dr. Franco encouragingly concludes that “not everyone is cut out for med school.” Reid asks if this means that Dr. Franco doesn’t think he can be a doctor. Dr. Franco dodges the question by saying that there are other careers Reid could pursue if his main goal is to help his brother and others like him. Reid angrily stands, and denies that there are any other paths: “I want to help people this way, not through some bogus social work crap.” So, for those of you keeping track, Reid has now insulted: people who see mental health professionals, and social workers. Dr. Franco also stands, and backs down a little, commenting that he doesn’t know Reid well and isn’t telling him to quit. He urges him to make it through the first year and to take care of himself, because it will all get better. Reid “thanks” him for the “help” [sarcastic quotes seem apropos here] and leaves, looking defeated.

Morning in the Abbott house. Rose comes down the stairs and greets Harold, already sitting at the kitchen table, good morning. Harold remarks that her “downward spiral into degeneracy has yet to make it into the Pinecone.” Rose wonders if he has to be so dramatic. I wonder if Rose has met Harold. As she pours herself some coffee, Harold notes that, since Rose has probably lost her short-term memory, she’s likely forgotten that he’s still waiting for an explanation of what transpired. Rose calls it “nothing,” which Harold disputes, as he found her in their house, using an illegal substance with a strange man. Rose pauses a moment before replying, somewhat icily, that Bill is being hit hard by chemo, and that his oncologist recommended marijuana to increase his appetite. Harold, however, wonders how Rose’s also smoking pot was of any help; “last I checked, you don’t share a stomach.” Rose exclaims that Bill was scared, as he had never done it before, and adds that she herself only “took one hit.” Harold is just a little appalled that she’s using pot lingo. “I suppose next we’ll be listening to Pink Floyd over dinner!” Hee. Better rent The Wizard of Oz while you’re at it. Rose protests, but Harold offers the possibility of Amy or Bright having walked in. Rose asserts that she was just helping a friend, which is what people in a support group are supposed to do. Harold, however, rebuts that he didn’t see a group, but Bill: “And what, pray tell, makes Bill your personal responsibility? Is there no one else in this group that he can get stoned with?” Harold says these two italicized words in the tone of someone pointing out what the cat just regurgitated. Rose realizes that Harold is jealous; rather than actually responding to these charges, Harold tells her not to change the subject, which means he’s totally jealous. Rose apologizes for her “snafu,” and leaves to take a shower. Harold encourages her to “shower away,” and returns to the newspaper, looking mildly amused.

Ed’s hospital room. He awakens at the sound of someone – Jake – flipping through a clipboard. He observes that Jake is the doctor who rescued him. Jake replies that he’s “one of them,” and asks how Ed feels. Ed would rather hear a doctor’s opinion of how he actually is. Jake leans over to check on Ed’s head injury, but Ed remarks that Jake’s presence is hardly necessary, as Ed is in a hospital and all. Jake says that he wanted to be “thorough,” and also wanted to ask Ed a question: has he ever considered getting professional help? Ed responds that he used to go to daily AA meetings in Denver, but that it never worked for him. Gee, what a peculiar coincidence that both he and Jake have found twelve-step programs unhelpful! What could it all mean? Ed continues that he guesses he might just be “built this way;” and concludes that alcohol seems like the easiest way to dull his pain, and he doesn’t know how to “stop it.” Jake wonders if this last part is referring to the drinking, or the pain. Ed thinks it’s both. After a moment, Jake tentatively suggests that Ed may have wanted, “deep down inside,” to crash his car. Ed takes this in, and finally replies that he was trying to hit rock bottom, to get to a point where there was nowhere to go but up. Jake remarks that he appears to have hit that point. Ed starts to choke up a bit, and backstories that his wife had given him multiple ultimatums, and has now left him. Jake asks, intensely, if Ed really wants to recover. He says that as long as Ed promises that he will, in whatever way works best for him, Jake will keep the police from getting involved. This seems just a wee bit shady. Ed promises, and Jake cautions that he’ll be checking up on Ed to make sure he keeps his word; if not, Jake will contact the police. Ed wonders why Jake cares so much, given that he doesn’t know Ed. Jake says that, actually, he kind of does, and explains that someone gave him a second chance when he needed it. Ed says nothing, but looks appreciative. Jake, in turn, looks determined.

Amy and Hannah’s Day of Girl and Food Talk is taking place at a Moroccan restaurant, and also includes Amy’s new friends Beth and Kate. Interestingly, food talk is actually occurring, as Amy comments on how great the place is, and Beth explains that she’s “obsessed” with discovering new restaurants on-line, and wonders how people ate before the internet. Kate laughs that her sentence made no sense. Hannah looks uncomfortable, particularly when Beth picks up a carafe of some kind of liquor and prepares to pour Hannah a glass. Beth assures her that the restaurant doesn’t card, but Hannah explains that she doesn’t drink. Amy gives Hannah a slightly disdainful sidelong glance. Shut up, Amy’s eyes. Beth says, awkwardly, that it’s “cool,” but glances at Amy as if to ask where Amy found this loser. A belly dancer starts making her way over, and Beth raves over how “amazing” she is, oversharing that she taught Beth some scarf dance that she ended up using on her boyfriend. She adds, for good measure, that it’s “better than a pole-dancing class.” Hannah looks pretty much how you’d expect her to look at this point. Kate declares that Beth would never take a pole-dancing class, but Beth says it’s good exercise, and suddenly switches the subject back to belly-dancing and asks who’s going to join her in dancing. Kate will, but Amy, a bit reluctantly, says she’ll sit it out. Hannah encourages her to join them, saying she’ll just “watch the couscous,” but Amy insists that it’s okay. She asks if Hannah is having fun. Hannah lies that it’s “great!” Amy hopes it’s okay that her other friends came along, and I really don’t understand how Amy can not realize what a mistake it was to bring them along when the whole point of this thing was for she and Hannah to mend their friendship. But, anyway, Amy continues that she really wanted Hannah and the others to meet, so they could all hang out together and become BFFs! Hannah’s like “Yeah, great, good.” Amy says that they’ll be going to an Italian bakery for dessert, but Hannah begs off, claiming that she has after-dinner movie plans with Bright. Amy actually realizes what’s really going on here, but just says “okay” and returns to her food. Hannah glances up at the dancing Beth and Kate, and looks uncomfortable again for a moment, until she decides to fall back on what’s basically become her motto: “Have you talked to Ephram lately?” Which, incidentally, would make an awesome series of PSAs: “Do you ever feel like no one understands you? Have sarcasm and jadedness been missing from your life? Do you find it difficult to enjoy piano music? You’re not alone. There is help. [insert slow-motion scenes of Ephram with random people] Have you talked to Ephram lately?” Uh, so anyway, Amy smiles tightly, and shakes her head no, but this is a lie unless Hannah already knows about last week’s mall-based meeting. Hannah is glum.

Reid is studying to some music that underscores the stress he’s quite obviously feeling, since it talks about “tidal waves” and being “cast away.” He flips through a textbook and stares at the blank page of his notebook, until finally getting up, grabbing his coat, and stalking out of the apartment.

Nina is preparing dinner, which is pretty much how she spends 90% of her screentime these days. Jake enters and asks what she’s making; she explains that it’s a “complicated” new macaroni and cheese recipe, which requires her to start with a roux. Jake has no clue what she’s talking about. Nina begins chopping vegetables, while Jake brings up his visit to Ed and how bad he feels for him. Nina urges him not to feel too bad, as Ed’s had problems for years. Jake, however, thinks he could get better if there were a local place for him to get help. Nina asks if he means an Everwood branch of AA, and sardonically chuckles that it’ll happen “right after they cure cancer.” Jake insists that it could happen, but Nina, who knows the place a lot better than he does, notes that Everwood is a “sweep-it-under-the-rug kind of town.” Jake doesn’t think this makes it right, though, since all that stuff is still happening. I suddenly kind of wish that he had dropped by the Abbott household for some reason or other during Rose and Bill’s excellent adventure. He concludes that it would be best to bring it all out into the open, so those who need help could get it. Nina attributes all the secrecy to “small-town mentality,” and uses Linda’s HIV, and the resulting outcry when it was revealed, as an example. She adds that “AIDS is a legitimate illness,” which is so very much the wrong thing to say in this case, as Jake rebuts that addiction is, as well. Nina replies, a little too brightly, that she knows that, and returns to her macaroni. Jake launches right into his plans: his friend, who runs the Carbondale rehab center, will help him set up a program in Everwood. He explains that it will only draw upon the best elements of the NA and AA programs, offering peer support for recovering addicts. Nina haltingly asks if he really wants to start a support group in Everwood. Jake nods in confirmation, and Nina asks if he would be participating in or running it. Jake replies that he’d be doing both, actually, since it wouldn’t be right for him to ask others to share without being willing to share himself. Nina allows that it’s a “big” and “good” idea, but wonders if it would be good for Jake. Jake insists that he’ll be fine; “don’t forget, I’m from Los Angeles. We love airing our dirty laundry out in public. That’s why there’s so much smog.” Nina laughs a little, but still looks concerned. Jake continues that Everwood needs some “shaking up,” and that at worst, no one will go to the meetings. Nina thinks that the actual worst case scenario would be lots of people showing up and discovering that Jake is a recovering addict, leading to the demise of his practice. Jake deems this a risk worth taking.

Harold strolls through the office and tells Louise to call some patient about an appointment; upon reaching Louise’s desk, he notices that she’s sitting on a large exercise ball. Louise explains that it’s part of her effort to “strengthen her core” and improve her posture. Louise must lead a very interesting life that we never get to see. Bill suddenly enters the building, all, “Hey, Harold!” Harold greets him as “Mr. Schmicker,” and now sounds as though he’s addressing a suspected Nazi. He remarks that he wasn’t aware Bill was one of Andy’s patients, and Bill replies that he only sees him for routine matters, as his oncologist is in Denver. He adds, confidingly, that he hates long drives. Bill is cracking me up, people. He’s so chipper and all in love with Harold after having met him for five awkward minutes. It must be all the pot. Harold chuckles. Bill suddenly looks apologetic, and says that Rose told him, “at lunch,” that Harold was upset, and apologizes for any discomfort he might have caused. Harold dismisses this, but then wonders when Bill and Rose had lunch together. The previous day, apparently, the mention of which reminds Bill to offer a hearty congratulations on the adoption. He even pats Harold on the arm and calls the whole thing “amazing.” Harold agrees that it is, then glances away, annoyed. Bill continues that, though he really doesn’t know anything about the subject, he thinks “Rose’s concerns are pretty natural.” Any concern on Rose’s part is news to Harold, who raises his eyebrows a bit, but nods when Bill assures him that “they’ll pass” and that Harold shouldn’t worry. Harold replies with a “No, no, no no. I’m sure you’re right!” Hee. He thanks Bill for being a good friend to Rose. Bill aims a finger-gun at him and says, “Two-way street!” This guy is slaying me and I have no idea why. He’s just oddly hilarious. (Maybe now I know why: a quick visit to IMDB informs me that the actor is a descendant of Aaron Burr, who was the subject of my North American History prof’s funniest lecture ever. And, it also says that Jon Lindstrom used to be married to Eileen Davidson, who was brilliantly nuts on Days of Our Lives back when I watched in the mid-'90s. So maybe there's something there.) Harold smirks. Bill concludes that it was good to see him and Louise, and leaves. Louise gushes over what a “sweet, sweet man” he is. Harold scoffs at this, and declares that “if he were any more transparent, he’d be a drinking glass!” Louise is confused, and Harold asks if she’s blind. “Bill Schmicker is hot for my wife!” Louise is very surprised.

Bright stomps into the Abbott kitchen. Amy, who’s putting away groceries, greets him with a rather haughty-sounding “Hello,” which Bright mimics perfectly just before calling her a “traitor.” He’s distracted from any further condemnation by a bag of chips, which Amy grabs from him. She breezily asserts that she has no idea what he’s talking about, nor does she care. Bright replies that “it was bad enough when you were just self-righteous, but you’ve gone to a whole new level. You are becoming, like, this Phi Beta fembot, with your obnoxious friends, your new cause, like, every other week. [in an excellent falsetto] ‘Save the tuna! Kill the men!’” Amy smiles, but wonders if there’s a point to any of this. Bright’s point is that it’s now affecting Hannah. Amy finds it “unbelievable” that Hannah told him about the dinner. Bright replies that “of course” she told him, because she was upset and had been looking forward to spending time with Amy. “And you ambush her with Mary-Kate and Ashley!” Amy corrects him on the names, and says she just wanted them all to meet so they could hang out together in the future, which didn’t work out. Amy asides that it’s a shame, since Kate and Beth “are very cool girls.” Bright interjects that Hannah is cooler. Amy says they’re “different,” and that Hannah should have told Amy that she was miserable instead of complaining to Bright about it. Bright thinks that Hannah just didn’t want to sound rude, but Amy asserts that it’s not that, but that Hannah didn’t want to “ruffle any feathers,” and that she does exactly the same thing when it comes to Bright and keggers. Well, that only took eleven episodes to come out. Bright, surprised, asks what Amy’s talking about. Amy says that Hannah hates the parties, but keeps going to them and complaining afterwards to Amy. Bright, looking a bit hurt, remarks that he thought Hannah liked them. Amy wonders why she would, since “watching you get drunk and prance around like an idiot is annoying.” I actually have to agree with Amy on this one, because that rap scene in “Put On a Happy Face” is cringeworthy. Amy concludes that her actual point is that Hannah needs to learn to speak her mind, because she "spends half her life pretending like things are okay when they’re obviously not,” though, Amy snots, maybe Bright prefers it that way. Bright tells her to “can it,” since if he’d known Hannah hated parties he wouldn’t have kept taking her. Amy replies that he knows now. Bright seems to consider this small consolation for learning that his girlfriend's been lying to him for most of the season.

Andy marches down the sidewalk and catches up to Jake, who’s just pulled up to his office. He demands a word with Jake, who asks if he can at least get out of his car first. Andy allows this, and then announces that he’s just returned from a visit to Ed, who thanked him for leaving the police out. Looks like Jake forgot to make “don’t tell anyone else about the shadiness” one of his conditions with Ed. Jake says he was going to tell Andy later, but Andy thinks it’s too late for that, and reminds Jake that they’re supposed to be working together. Jake lamely replies that they are, since Andy already knew about Jake’s feelings; Andy, however, reminds Jake that they had already agreed to go to the police after Ed’s surgery. Jake calls his decision a “judgment call,” and over-identifies with Ed again, insisting that putting him in jail would be a waste of time and taxpayers’ money. Jake urges Andy to trust him, since Ed wants so much to get sober and made a promise to Jake. Andy, like Nina, is afflicted with Saying the Wrong Thing Syndrome: “Come on, Jake, you know as well as I do that a promise from somebody in the throes of addiction is meaningless!” Jake fiercely asks “excuse me?” Andy assures Jake that he’s not referring to him, but suggests that that’s part of the problem, as Ed’s case has nothing to do with Jake’s life. Jake says he knows this, prompting Andy to wonder why he’s making a crusade of it. He adds that Jake’s only hurting Ed more by trying to protect him. Jake thinks Ed “deserves a chance” because he has a family. Andy finally tries playing on Jake’s desire to belong, insisting that he can’t go off on his own when they’re supposed to be working together. Jake claims that he can when Andy is wrong, and heads into his office. Andy stands alone as – it’s snowing! Hey! Neat.

The Abbott Family Dinner: Putting the ‘Fun’ in ‘Dysfunction’! Rose carries in a basket of rolls, which she hands to Hannah. Rose then sits with the others at the table, and, noticing Harold picking at his food, asks why he isn’t eating, as she made one of his favorites: honey-mustard chicken. Harold’s only answer is this: “So what’s Bill’s favorite dish? Chicken pot pie?” Heeee. Bright asks who Bill is. Harold calls him Rose’s “boyfriend.” Amy gives both Harold and Rose equally weirded-out looks. Rose sighs a “for heaven’s sake...” while Harold asks if Rose is aware that Bill is “desperately in love with” her. Hannah appears to be thinking, “These people are weird, but this is already so much more entertaining than any dinner I ever had with my actual family.” Bright looks at Rose mischievously and reiterates that she has a boyfriend. Harold: “Bill. Bill Schmicker. Sounds like something you’d lance.” He continues that they’ll be running off together soon, “probably to Jamaica.” Hannah and Bright now appear to be thinking that Harold’s marbles fell out at some point during his ride home from work. Harold concludes that it’s fine, since he can just raise their adopted child on his own. Amy expresses her utter confusion. Rose tensely replies that Bill is not in love with her, but that Harold just doesn’t understand the concept of a support group. Harold thinks that he understands that “it’s all about the support...group,” and asks Rose to further “enlighten” him. Now Hannah and Bright just look uncomfortable. Rose decides she’d rather not, and stands, announcing that she’s lost her appetite. That just leaves the other four to continue the wacky, tension-filled antics! Amy gives Harold a pointed “Dad.” Harold urges them to eat: “The chicken’s divine.” Never has an adjective sounded so much like a threat of bodily harm. So they all dig in, and after a few moments, Harold asks what the “terminally ineffectual youth have planned for this evening.” Amy replies that she and Beth are planning to go see a classic Japanese film. Bright thinks that sounds like fun, which he amends to “awful,” prompting Amy’s disdain. Hannah says that she and Bright are going to a party at ‘Dirk’s’ place. Bright, however, adds that they don’t have to go if she doesn’t want to. Amy glances at him, while Hannah asks why she wouldn’t want to go. Bright, clueless, says that he thought she might not be interested. Amy clears her throat and subtly waves her fork in Bright’s direction, trying to get him to shut up, but her cover is blown when Hannah actually looks at her. Hannah suspiciously asks what’s going on. Doofy Bright explains that Amy was “nice enough” to inform him of Hannah’s party-hatred. Amy rolls her eyes up into her head, Hannah freaks, and good old oblivious Bright is all “no big deal.” Hannah can’t believe Amy told him. Amy asks if it isn’t true. Hannah asserts that her relationship with Bright is none of Amy’s business, though Amy reminds her that she’s been telling Amy all about it for a year, which kind of makes her a part of it. Hannah sarcastically apologizes for putting such a burden on her. Amy insists that it’s not a burden, but suggests that Hannah talk about things that involve Amy, too, such as the awful time she had with Amy’s friends. Hannah gets huffy again, and gapes at Bright. Amy continues that he didn’t have to tell her anything, since she already knew. Hannah’s surprised that she did, and Amy goes on that Hannah just needs to say what she’s thinking so they can avoid “all this drama.” Bright is nodding in agreement, as Hannah turns to him and asks if he feels the same way. Catching her expression, he shakes his head “nooo,” but then grants that he kind of does. This is all too much for Hannah, who glares again at Amy and asks if she really wants to know what she’s feeling: “Okay. I hate couscous. Your friends are ridiculous, and the way you act around them is totally false. And that Beth girl is a total bitch!” Gasp! Harold, who’s been staying out of this, looks up from his food, both startled and amused, which prompts Hannah to quickly apologize. Amy marvels that Hannah’s “actually expressing a real feeling and it was negative. We should throw a party!” Bright: “She doesn’t like parties.” *snerk* Hannah hisses his name. Bright starts stuttering out an apology while Hannah angrily rises from the table, thanks them for dinner, and stomps off to parts elsewhere. Bright continues to apologize and also stands, throwing his napkin on the table and telling Amy “nice move,” before following his girlfriend. Amy blames Bright for starting it. Now it’s down to just Harold and Amy. Harold apparently heard nothing other than the word “bitch,” as he mournfully repeats his “something you’d lance” line, and wonders why Rose wasn’t amused. “Perhaps it was my delivery.” Oh, Harold, know this: it is never your delivery. Amy pleads with him to “let it go.” You know, I’m beginning to think the tragedy isn’t just that Everwood was cancelled, but that no one at least tried to spin-off The Abbotts + Hannah Dinner Hour, because that? Would truly have been a thing of great and terrible beauty.

The next day. Nina barges into the Brown home, where Andy is currently eating breakfast. He offers her pancakes, but she’s more interested in discussing Jake’s apparent insanity. Andy assures her that Jake is not “crazy,” but “stupid.” Nina asks if he knows already, then, and when Andy confirms that he and Jake just fought over the matter, it’s clear that Nina and Andy are referring to two completely different things. Fortunately, it doesn’t go on for too long; after Nina expresses her amazement that this must mean Jake’s really serious about his plan, Andy wonders what she’s talking about, which Nina then wonders about Andy. Nina goes first, explaining Jake’s plan to start a local support group. She frets about all the gossip this will generate, and reminds Andy of all the talk about him in his first days in town. Andy sighs “Ah, memories.” Heh. Nina suggests that Andy tell Jake about how difficult that was, as Jake apparently sees Andy as some sort of role model and trusts him. Andy scoffs that Jake “has a funny way of showing it,” but refuses to tell Nina any more about that little matter. He does say, however, that it’s not his place to get involved in the dispute and that, what’s more, he actually thinks Jake’s idea is a good one; “the town will be up in arms for twenty minutes, and then they’ll move on.” Nina worries about what will happen if they don’t, particularly if the stress hurts Jake’s recovery process. Andy is sure he’ll be fine, and adds that their financial situation is secure, given the success of Sam’s. Nina, though, is not worried about money. Her actual concern is the very real possibility of the whole town knowing her problems: “Everything that happened with Carl was embarrassing enough, and now it’ll be ‘Nina: that poor lady who married a gay guy and now she’s shacked up with a druggie!’” Nina realizes how self-absorbed she sounds, and mutters that she’s a “horrible person.” Andy doesn’t respond to this, but only remarks that people will probably talk, but Nina doesn’t have to listen, unless she actually agrees with them, deep down. Nina absorbs this, then turns her attention to pancakes and syrup.

Jake walks down the hall to Ed’s room. He looks in and sees police standing around Ed’s bed, writing up a report. Betrayal!

The cancer support group has just concluded a meeting at the house of Wacky Bill. He’s shaking hands with everyone and tries to push a bundt cake onto one woman, who refuses the offer. Rose thanks him for hosting, though he notes that he didn’t go to much trouble, and that Rose has already hosted twice. Rose prepares to leave, but Bill expresses his hope that Rose will stay a little while longer and smoke with him. He claims that it “helped so much the other night,” but Rose, fortunately, is not a moron, and replies that she thinks he has the hang of it. Bill grows increasingly oily [my love burned bright and flamed out fast, it seems], as he quietly, and intensely, tells Rose that her support has meant so much, and he doesn’t know where he’d be without her, and blah blah blah inappropriatecakes. Rose becomes a little bit moronic, for a second, as she assures Bill he’d be “just fine,” but pulls him in for a hug. Bill interprets this in very much the wrong way; he thanks her, and they pull apart, but he then dives in for a kiss, full on the lips. Rose shoves him away and demands to know what he’s doing. He groans, and she continues that she’s happily married. Bill “just thought” something-or-other, though Rose doesn’t give him a chance to explain what, as she admonishes him and pronounces his full name in very Haroldesque tones. She slams the door shut, leaving Bill to get high by his lonesome.

Amy’s in her bedroom, at her computer. Hannah hesitantly knocks on the open door, and Amy invites her in, adding that “Beth isn’t hiding in the closet.” That was...kind of funny, okay. Hannah, sounding quite remorseful indeed, apologizes for everything she said at dinner. Amy says this is unnecessary, but Hannah continues to be very sorry for losing her temper. Amy is actually glad that Hannah did, declaring that she and Hannah aren’t real best friends if they can’t be honest with each other. Hannah, though, remarks that she hates fighting with Amy and that it seems like it’s all they’ve been doing lately. Amy urges her on with a “try me.” Hannah needs some clarification. Amy wants to demonstrate how honest they can be without fighting, and asks for Hannah’s real opinion of Beth. Hannah thinks for a moment, and begins by conceding that she’s not a “[barely-audible whisper] bitch,” but that she does tend to monopolize the conversation and brag. Amy, for her part, grants that Beth comes across that way at first, but is much better once you get to know her; she adds that it’s okay if Hannah doesn’t like her, though. Everything’s good again! Friendships last forever! Amy asks if Hannah has anything else to say. Uh-oh. Hannah broaches the subject a bit tentatively, referring to it as something she and Amy “definitely disagree on,” but finally, after several seconds of silence, comes out with it: “I don’t think it’s very nice, what you’re doing to Ephram.” Well, this certainly won't make things worse. Amy asks what it is that Hannah thinks she’s doing to him. Hannah, as it happens, finally has a few new things to say on the subject. She thinks that Amy’s “stringing him along,” given that she told Ephram to wait for her, but doesn’t appear to have any plans of getting back together with him, “and every time I’m over there, I just feel so bad...” Turns out straight honesty isn’t really what Amy wanted after all, as she turns back to the computer and announces that there are some things they don’t need to discuss. Hannah reiterates Amy’s call for honesty, but Amy argues that Hannah is not being honest, but just has an agenda to reunite Ephram and Amy. Hannah vehemently denies this, asserting that what she wants is for Amy to be fair to him: “If you’re not going to get back together, then tell him! Let him move on with his life.” Amy rebuts that she’s not stopping him from doing so, though Hannah kind of thinks she is. Amy, forcefully but politely, insists that she doesn’t want to have this fight, and tells Hannah to drop it. Hannah, however, is rather enjoying her newfound backbone, and laughs bitterly that Amy can interfere in Hannah and Bright’s relationship, but Hannah can’t say anything about Amy and Ephram. Amy argues that the difference there is that she and Ephram aren’t together. Hannah, though, disputes this, claiming instead that “the difference is you want to run our friendship the same way you run your relationship with Ephram: all on your terms. And honestly? I’m just not into it anymore.” If you’ll just permit me a moment of totally, unrepentantly biased recappage: I’m so proud! Okay, done. Hannah storms out. Amy rests her chin in her hand and ponders what in heaven’s name just happened there.

This is a very fast-moving day, as it’s suddenly nighttime, and Harold is de-icing the walkway. Rose comes out to bring him a mug of an unidentified hot beverage, for which Harold thanks her. Rose is quiet for a moment, then informs him that he was right. Harold is not at all surprised, though he also has to ask to what she’s referring. She sighs about the dishonorable intentions of Bill Schmicker, confessing that he “tried” [though I think he did a little more than that] to kiss her. Harold is outraged, and asks where the car keys are; “cancer or no, I am going over there to give that lothario a what-for!” I cannot even begin to imagine how much fun it must have been to write Harold’s dialogue. Rose hastily assures him that there’s no need to defend her, since she already took care of the matter. She berates herself for being “stupid,” even though she was trying to be a good friend. Harold insists that she’s not stupid, but a “beautiful, magnificent, vibrant woman” whom any man would fall for, “though I suspected Bill Schmicker right from the get-go.” Rose thanks him, and confesses that, after so many years together, she rather enjoyed seeing him jealous, much as he tried to deny it. Harold admits that he was jealous, but not because he actually thought she and Bill would have an affair; “I am confident that you will always be mine, drug habit and all.” Hee. He continues that what bothered him was the idea that Rose would rather share her feelings with a relative stranger than with Harold. Rose replies that that’s the point of the group, but Harold explains that he’s not referring to that, but to the fact that she expressed her fears about the adoption to Bill and not to Harold. Rose guesses that she never told him because of his own concerns about it; she worried that if she seemed hesitant, Harold would back out. Harold reminds her that their marriage doesn’t work that way; sometimes Rose is the “beacon of strength,” other times Harold is the “buoy that keeps [them] afloat,” but they’re always in it together. He asks, gently, why she’s worried. Rose confesses that she’s afraid her cancer will hurt their chances. Oh, Rose, don’t worry; Harold’s already anticipated that little issue! She asks if it hasn’t crossed Harold’s mind. Harold simply says that “it has,” wisely leaving out any mention of the LIE. Rose wonders if he really thinks the adoption agency will give a child to someone who’s less than a year out of treatment. Harold actually prefaces his response with “honestly,” and declares that “any child would be blessed to have” Rose for a mother, and that he thinks the agency will recognize that and everything will be just fine. Rose is happy, and rests her head against his shoulder. Which is just as well, as that way she can’t see the intense apprehension that’s just crossed Harold’s face.

College classroom, where Reid is taking a test. After checking to make sure the professor isn’t watching, he pulls a tiny index card from his sleeve and starts to copy down answers. Welcome to the Liar’s Club, Reid! You're not the first new member this season, and you certainly won’t be the last.

Andy’s in the office, looking through some files, when Jake comes in and states that Andy called the cops. Andy confirms that he did, and Jake asks why, declaring that he was going to save Ed, but now Andy’s ruined his whole life. Andy, however, informs him that Ed will only be spending 72 hours in jail, and that he could still get help by, say, joining Jake’s support group. Jake wonders, for a moment, how Andy knows about it, but then remembers Nina’s tendency to run to Andy about everything. Andy interjects a “Listen,” but Jake announces that he’s not changing his mind and nothing Andy says will change that. Much to Jake’s surprise, Andy expresses his strong support of the idea. This confuses Jake greatly: “What is this? Some kind of Andy Brown neurosurgeon mind game?” Heh. Andy: “Yes. I’m going to be bring you down by agreeing with you. It’s evil but effective.” Hee! But he then says that he really does support the idea, and told Nina so. Jake is pleased to hear it, and Andy reminds him that the doctors have to “look out for each other.” Happy to have an ally, Jake asks for Andy’s opinion on him asking to use town hall for the meetings. Andy deems it a “waste of time.” Jake figured as much, but notes that his office isn’t big enough; Andy replies that his is, and smiles. After a few beats, Jake observes that “Everwood isn’t going to like this.” Andy agrees, but suggests that it was about time someone shook things up. They laugh, and Jake turns to leave, but Andy stops him to ask if he’ll still be supplying the pastries for the doctor get-together. Jake promises that he will, and takes a few more steps before turning again and thanking Andy. He finally leaves, and it’s nice that at least one friendship survived the episode.

Next time: Ephram comes to a decision about his future with the piano; Nina comes to a decision about her future with Jake; and Bright does a whole lot of damage to his future with Hannah.